


lacuna

by Veletrix



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: (i may have caused myself to ship feng and the nurse thru this tho LMAO), also inspired by how underappreciated feng is by you guys, but thats like if you squint or smth, inspired by a game i had as feng, its dbd what do you expect, kinda a character study too?? idk man, no explicit violence or gore but there is vague death n stuff, this can be seen as shippy between feng n the nurse, this is kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14249670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veletrix/pseuds/Veletrix
Summary: Things get lost in the fog, and sometimes its just one survivor against one killer.At this point, though, Feng finds it hard to care.





	lacuna

**Author's Note:**

> so, like, this is my first fanfic in maybe over five years? so lets hope this goes well lol
> 
> edit: finally its beta'd, but not much's changed so dw y'all

The Entity’s realm was a very dark place, and as per rule of thumb, things tend to get lost in very dark places. A loose grip on reality, a few missteps, too many seconds minutes hours, entire people are lost. 

So, Feng Min was the only one found this time. Crotus Prenn Asylum greeted her darkly through the fog, an empty congratulations for being the only one to make it to the trial. No Meg, no Claudette, no Nea. A loneliness that Feng was used to outside of trials, but not in. She craned her head back and squinted at the asylum. It was such a large, guttural beast; with empty eyes and dark caverns. Its burns spoke of a story--every map here did--but it won’t be one she’ll be hearing any time soon. Or ever.

It was easy to know if you were down a person or two or three in a trial: a gut feeling, something awash in the air, like coming home to your one-person apartment and finding the door hanging open.

Feng wandered past icebergs of rotting wood and the crumbling fractures of walls. Only two generators would need to be completed, that was another thing she just knew. But she knew she didn’t need to bother: she was going to die.

Giving up wasn’t Feng’s style, it wasn’t anyone’s style, certainly not a survivor’s style. But sometimes, sometimes, giving up is all you have left to do. Feng can assess and analyze, and she can admit defeat when she sees it. 

Not always, though. Feng had ego. She spent years crafting and backing one up, making it bigger, big enough to shadow her flaws and booze. She needed it, back then. Needed it to remind herself that she still had worth, that she was/is/can be something. Even when she was crying in the bathroom with vomit in the toilet and her head pounding like a jackhammer, even when her team was the first to get booted off the big leagues partially (absolutely) because of her, even when her family wouldn’t return her calls. 

But being here, being murdered, murdered, and murdered, nobody cares about your ego. The monsters only cared for your blood, and your teammates only cared if you can pull your weight. You think you’re better at this than them? Good, you better show it. If you can’t, you’ll just get used as bait. You’ll be a useless load, again. 

Feng found a generator. She looked at it, and wrapped her arms around herself. Everywhere here gave off the impression of being cold and colder, but it didn’t bother (wasn’t felt) by anyone here. Everyone’s too dead to deal with it.

Feng decided to not start on the generator. She continued off, looking, idly, for a totem or a chest. Something small and easy. Something to occupy herself while she waited for the killer to find her. Sitting down and just waiting for her death wasn’t ideal for anyone, but she really couldn’t care anymore.

She found the Nurse before the Nurse could find her.

Hovering near the entrance of the asylum, the Nurse was still. Feng couldn’t tell if she was pausing (to what? Catch a breath? Contemplate nature?) or just waiting. Feng wasn’t sure what to do, exactly, for the next few seconds. 

The Nurse turned towards Feng’s direction.

There was something of the way the Nurse floated that seemed very wrong. Her head--sacked by filthy linen--was lolling on her neck at an angle that made Feng think of bad sleeping positions or hanged men. Her arms and legs dangled uselessly under her, and when she moved around, she less floated and more just got dragged around a few feet off the ground. She was a dejected, filthy, horrifyingly real ghost. Nowadays, Feng felt like she was one too.

The Nurse didn’t immediately attack Feng, which was--well, it was certainly not how things went. Feng didn’t move. A few foggy seconds passed, and the Nurse moved.

It was with her head: she seemed to dip it further down the side. She then floated back a bit, then forward, then back again, and slightly turned her body to the side. Feng was incredulous. Did she want her to follow?

Well.

She had nothing to lose at this point, now did she?

Feng cautiously crept forward.

The Nurse backed up some more, and Feng allowed herself to cover more ground. Seemingly satisfied that Feng will follow, the Nurse made her way to the nearest generator. Feng followed, heartbeat going crazy, but feeling calmer than before.

Stopping next to the generator, the Nurse brushed a hand against it, gesturing limply, almost hesitantly. Feng was put off being told by a killer to work on a generator, but she complied regardless.

With only one person, a generator generally took just over a minute to complete, if uninterrupted and no mistakes are made. On paper this isn’t long at all, but in trials, it can feel like an hour. Because of this, Feng’s knees were clenched and her back was tensely hunched. The Nurse could lose patience and rip her off the generator at any given moment. She didn’t want to be jumpscared by that. Even after meeting death again and again, Feng still found room to fear.

She powered the generator, eventually, making no mistakes even when she was sweating bullets and she could hear her blood in her ears. The Nurse seemed pleased, and lead Feng to another generator, then to a lit totem, then to another lit totem, then to a chest, and then to an exit gate. All while, as she stayed a few feet in front of Feng, she often turned to look at Feng, and the first few times they sent a jolt of panic up Feng’s spine, expecting a sudden lunge. But, she realize, the Nurse was just checking on her, making sure she was following, and Feng couldn’t help but find that funny, and she laughed quietly the seventh time it happened.

After Feng opened the exit gate, she hesitated, and looked at the Nurse. The Nurse, seemingly, stared back at her. The Nurse lifted a decaying arm, and beckoned Feng.

And Feng followed.

It was hard to tell what was the original main entrance for the asylum. So many walls and doorways had crumbled down to identical gaping maws, filled with cobwebs and stagnated air and broken hope.

The Nurse glided in and out of rooms, seemingly searching for something. She didn’t find it downstairs, so the pair made their way up. She gave a notable pause in the main, circular room in the center of the building. The one that always had a generator backed up against the wall, a chest adjacent to it, and a large hole in the corner. The rusty skeletons of metal beds and piles of debris that almost scraped the ceiling sat around, quiet and undisturbed, a violent abandonment, this was the past now. This was the kind of place where, in a normal world, stray cats would be hiding under shadows and graffiti would be boasting on the walls. But there was none, and because of that, the place felt so wholly untouched, so close to reality but so uncommitted, that it was like being in a giant, rotting dollhouse kept locked away in a display case that no one can touch.

The Nurse seemed to give some consideration. Then she turned and moved on, Feng in tow.

There was a room just off to the side, down what was left of a hall. In it, there was still some beds standing. One even had a mattress on it. 

This was it, what she was looking for. The Nurse approached Feng, slowly, nicely, and gently--gently--placed a hand on her shoulder. This was--Feng had never been touched by a killer that wasn’t pure pain and steel. She felt lightheaded, the Nurse smelled of something bloody and old and regrettable. Feng was tired and confused and lonely and sad. The Nurse guided her to the bed, and Feng lied down. It was the first time in eternity that she’s been on something even close to resembling a bed. It smelled awful and was itchy and lumpy as hell, but it was something. It was something that hit close to home, to the times before all this. 

There was a jagged hole in the roof, directly above the bed. The round, pearled moon could be seen through it. Perfectly in the middle, a perfect shiny eye, undeterred by ever present darkness and lashed with smoky clouds.

Feng stared back at it.

“There’s no stars here,” she whispered. The Nurse had both her hands on Feng’s shoulders, making sure she stayed down. Her bone saw was gone. Feng could hear something, under the rasping susurrous, old cloth against old cloth, bugs on a leaf, wheezy breaths, dark wind. 

The Nurse could talk, and the Nurse, through gasps of carrion air, wanted Feng to know she was here, and she was going to make her better.

Feng began to cry. It was silent and easy. She couldn’t look away from the moon. She couldn’t pay proper attention to the Nurse’s words. She couldn’t stay awake.

Falling asleep, tears down her cheeks, she said softly: “What a lonely thing.”

xXx

When Feng woke up, she was on the forest floor, and she could see the campfire. She could see the others, hunched over, their backs dark, their bodies still.

She dragged herself over to them. Claudette, Nea, and Meg apologized shortly for leaving her, as though they had had a choice in that matter. They asked her how it went, as though it would go any way but one way.

Feng remembered, in between sighs and sleep, hands around her neck and wheezy cries in her ear. A brush of something worn and soft against her cheek. She looked up at the moon.

“It was okay,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> while i was writing this my cat sneezed on my elbow then started licking it n i need yall to know that i still love her regardless of how gross that was


End file.
